Alternatively
by cathartic
Summary: Love is about trust. Merlin didn't trust many people—until he met a runaway-knight, who showed him life alternatively. (Slight AU. Begins a few months after the death of Merlin's father. Gwaine/Merlin)
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

"_Arma autem expolitio inventorum petatur_."

Merlin grinned cheekily as a rag from a nearby table rose up and began aggressively polishing the last bit of Arthur's chestplate. The young warlock threw himself backwards into a wooden chair, propping his feet up on the table in his room and rocking his weight on to the back legs of the chair precariously as he admired his hard work.

_If only Arthur respected the sheer amount of effort I put into things_, he thought as he glanced over to the prince's boots, which were also dutifully cleaning themselves.

The sword and chainmail had already finished - the gloves were still at work on the other side of the room. They were having a surprisingly difficult time getting in between each other's fingers.

"Merlin?"

The black-haired sorceror abruptly fell backward with his chair, head smacking the wooden ground with a graceless thud.

The armor that had been happily polishing itself also saw fit to clatter to the ground noisily, rolling toward the young man and smacking itself lightly against his temple.

Merlin poked his head up, propping his weight up with his arms behind him. "Gaius!" he greeted with a smile, blue eyes wide with innocence.

The physician narrowed both eyes, glancing over to the gloves, which were settled oddly on top of each other, each holding a rag, by the windowsill. "What are you doing?" he asked after a beat of silence.

"I was - uh - reading."

"_Reading_?"

"A book," Merlin elaborated with a smile. "A good one."

The physician frowned slightly, looking around the warlock for said-book with obvious curiosity. The room was littered with Arthur's things, set up in various corners of the room, all half-polished with rags dropped suspiciously atop them.

"But I finished it, the book," the warlock added hastily, "and put it away." He paused, opening and then closing his mouth before adding: "It actually wasn't that good a book. I don't recall the name."

Gaius lifted both eyebrows. Merlin returned the look, legs still dangling over his collapsed chair. "Actually, I don't think it _had_ a name," he offered as an after-thought.

Gaius nodded thoughtfully, turning around.

"I see. Since you're done reading, you might as well run a few errands for me."

"But Gaius, I was-"

The man turned around to face the protesting sorceror, arching both eyebrows. "Not reading?"

"MERLIN!"

The door to the servant's bedchambers was thrown ajar just then, Camelot's blond prince poking his head in, looking thoroughly angered.

"Where are my boots?" he demanded impatiently, stepping in the room in his bed clothes, hair sticking up in every direction. "And my breakfast - what are you doing down there?" he snapped, staring down at the warlock, who was still engtangled with the chair on the floor.

"He was reading, Sire," Gaius supplied helpfully, heading off back down the stairs with a cheery smile and ignoring the dark look Merlin sent after him.

* * *

Merlin carefully situated the largest piece of armor over the prince's chainmail, plucking a stray bit of fuzz from the man's hair as he did so. "Why didn't you tell me we were going somewhere early today?" the black-haired sorceror asked curiously as he secured it around the back.

"Because Merlin, it was confidential," Arthur said. "Besides, maybe if you weren't out at the tavern all night every night, it wouldn't matter that I told you things late notice."

"I wasn't at the tavern," Merlin grumbled irritably, shoving the man's sword into his chestplate with an irritated glare.

His mind flitted back to the visit of his father's grave last evening, but he quickly shoved it aside, forcing a blank expression as he began gathering up the dishes from the prince's breakfast.

Arthur shot him a look of surprise. "Are you all right?" he asked slowly, pushing his sword into its holster and giving the other a look of concern. "You've been really... _odd_ lately."

"You always think I'm odd," Merlin reminded him bluntly. "Will that be all, Sire?"

Arthur gave him a slow, contemplative look. "Ready the horses for us, then that will be all," he responded finally.

Merlin offered him a curt nod, walking out of the room without another word and ignoring the stupid impulse to try to explain the situation to the other man.

* * *

Merlin swung a foot into the stirrup, kicking off the ground and falling into the saddle of his sleepy mare. "Hey girl," he murmured, extending a hand and patting her on the neck. The sun was beating down on the both of them, and Merlin felt a surge of cheerfulness for once at his lack of armor. It would be nauseating under a layer of chainmail.

"I think you're being more odd than usual," Arthur declared as he mounted his horse, startling the warlock from his thoughts. "You're not smiling."

"So where is it we're going?" Merlin asked, blatantly ignoring the prince's implied question. He looked around, surprised at the lack of company the prince had chosen. Not a single knight seemed to be present.

"The tavern," Arthur declared, giving his stallion a kick and taking off through the Camelot gates without further explanation.

Merlin looked after him in utter bemusement as he urged his own exhausted horse forward, after the other man.

* * *

"So, which is it you're always going to?" the prince asked cheerfully as the two rounded a knoll, just having exited the lower town's gates.

Merlin pulled his mare's head up as she went to take a bite of grass and looked over to the blond in confusion. "Which what?"

"What tavern? It's not the one in Camelot, so it it-?"

"I don't go to the tavern," Merlin replied blankly.

Arthur pinned him with a dry look of disbelief. "I'm to believe Gaius just lies to my face every time I ask where you are? Come on, Merlin, I'd know if someone was lying to me."

Merlin smiled, glancing down at the ground and feeling a pang of unbidden guilt. "Of course," he said.

"Besides, what could you possibly have to hide that ditching out on your duties to go to the tavern sounds like a good excuse?"

Merlin smiled, repressing laughter and forcing a very serious nod, attempting to look away to hide his mirth.

"See, there's the smile I know. I knew this was a good idea," Arthur said with a beam, urging his horse forward toward a tavern in the distance.

"Wait, this was for me?" Merlin asked sharply, eyes widening as a smile split his features. "This confidential business was to take me out for a drink?"

"Of course not Merlin. I've got very important business to conduct in this... area," Arthur said dismissively. "If my father knew I was skipping out on patrols to take my manservant out for a drink, he'd have you killed. Don't be so ridiculous."

Merlin smiled at the back of his head stupidly, feeling a surge of warmth as the two trotted on to the stone path leading to the tavern.

The blue-eyed sorcerer smiled. "You know, underneath that dollop-head exterior, you really do have a heart," Merlin said cheerfully as he pulled up toward a tying post. "I always knew-"

"-Merlin."

"Hm?"

"Shut up."

"And there it is again," Merlin said with a sigh of disappointment as he swung out of his aged leather saddle, tying the mare to the post before walking over to the prince's stallion and holding him as the man dismounted.

Arthur smiled. "You're horrible at taking direction. I believe I _just_ told you to shut up."

"It's my specialty, sire," Merlin said mockingly as he tied the stallion to the post a fair distance from the mare.

"You know, there are plenty of servants who don't talk back out there."

"But none with my sense of humor," Merlin said cheerfully as he fell into step next to the blond. The prince rolled his eyes, not dignifying him with a response.

As they approached the door to the tavern, the knight dragged the black-haired manservant aside, looking very serious. "Now Merlin, remember, this is... just a normal drink with a friend of yours. If you have those. I don't want my father to-"

Merlin arched both eyebrows.

"-I don't want him to get the wrong idea, but anyway, while we're in there, I'm just Arthur. Not the prince of Camelot, and you're not my servant."

"I think I can handle that," the warlock said cheerfully as he yanked open the door to the aged building and let it fall closed behind him, nearly hitting the prince in the face with it.

* * *

_Maybe this is what I need. A drink to get my mind off things,_ Merlin thought unsurely as he entered the rowdy establishment. He slid into an empty seat at a table at a far corner of the place, looking up and surveying his surprisingly tense surroundings.

A group of grisly-looking men were crowded around a tall, dark-haired, handsome man at the center of the tavern.

"Bleeding bullshit it 'is," one man snarled angrily, slamming his fist into a table.

The man in the center laughed. "Now, now, we all have bad luck some days, don't we? I'll just be taking this," he said cheerfully, dragging a few coins across the table and pocketing them, "and be on my way."

"Luck my arse," a thinner, weaselly man spat from where he stood. "E's cheatin' us!" the man crowed.

Arthur sat down across from him, startling his attention away from the man. He fixed his gaze on the prince's uncertain blue eyes, before flicking it back over to the increasingly-heated situation in the middle of the tavern.

"Ah, here!" Arthur called to a barmaid across the room, who looked up with arched eyebrows. He summoned her over with a very princely sort of wave of his hand and the woman rolled her eyes, sauntering over with a look of blatant irritation.

"What can I do you for?" the woman asked dryly, her look of irritation fading as her eyes alighted upon Merlin.

She was a pretty enough girl, with long brown hair, vibrant red lips and bright blue eyes. She batted her long eyelashes. "And your friend here," she added in a decidedly more girlish voice.

"He'll have the usual," Arthur said firmly. "And I'll just have a tankard of your finest mead, thanks."

"The usual?" the girl asked curiously, leaning across the table in an attempt to draw attention to her chest. "What would that be? Never seen you around here," the girl said in a flirtatious voice.

Merlin peered around her at the man in the center of the tavern. The circle of men was gradually closing in around him. "Who's that?" he asked the barmaid curiously, nodding over to the man.

"You mean you don't come here often?" Arthur interjected sharply, looking very annoyed. "Then where do you _go_?"

"Him?" the blonde woman murmured distastefully as she glanced over her shoulder to where he was gesturing. "That's Gwaine. Total drunkard," she muttered with a pout.

"Oh," Merlin said shortly, gaze fixed on the man, eyebrows pinched in an unreadable way.

"Will you be having anything?" the girl asked with a hint of irritation after he sat that way for a moment, while Arthur looked at her as if she had a mental disorder.

"Ah, no, thanks," Merlin murmured, shaking his head and watching the man - Gwaine - intently.

"What was that all about?" Arthur demanded irritably as the girl stalked away fuming.

Merlin jerked his gaze over to the prince sharply, eyes widening slightly. "Sorry, what?"

"Since when is a girl interested in you over me? And I thought you went to the tavern every night, and now you won't even drink!" he exclaimed, as if disappointed, because it was all clearly Merlin's fault.

"I told you I didn't go to the tavern," Merlin protested. "I think Gwaine's going to get beat up."

"Who?"

A yell pierced the previous tense quiet of the tavern as the first man threw his punch. Gwaine swiftly ducked, nicking the man's sword from his holster and drawing it out with a wicked grin, spinning it around playfully in his hand.

Merlin and Arthur jumped to their feet, eyes wide with alarm.

A man from deeper in the crowd drew out a knife as Gwaine playfully sparred with one of the bigger men. Arthur unthinkingly threw himself into the fray, dragging out his sword and catching the blade of the man with the knife with his own just as he approached Gwaine's back.

The owners of the tavern came out of the backroom, exchanging looks of horror as the men raged, knocking over vases and bottles and smashing tables as they went.

Gwaine and Arthur fought back to back, spinning around each other with practiced ease.

Merlin's eyes widened as one of the men came at Arthur from a side angle. His eyes flashed a vibrant gold, his magic surging to the surface involuntarily and dragging the mace out of the man's hand.

The man - who was very tall - roared in rage as his weapon clattered to the ground, smacking one of his friends soundly in the head as it went down and got lost among the stampede of feet.

Merlin raced forward unthinkingly, grabbing a vase and tossing it at the man's head just as he grabbed Gwaine by the scruff of his jacket from behind.

The man grunted in surprise, tumbling to the ground and Gwaine swung around. Merlin offered him a wide-eyed grin which the man returned, barking a laugh. "Thanks!" he shouted as he ran a sword through the shoulder of one of the ringleaders of the fight.

"Don't mention it - look out!" Merlin replied. Gwaine spun around, ducking out of the way just as a man wrestled Arthur against the table. It quickly snapped under their combined weight but Arthur had shoved the man off within seconds, smacking the thug's head resoundingly against the stone floor.

"What's your name?" Gwaine asked conversationally as the weaselly man from earlier charged him with a roar of fury, swinging his sword wildly.

"Merlin," the warlock introduced himself, both men ducking as the small man made a wild, dramatic swipe with his sword, which broke Gwaine's damaged one cleanly in half. Merlin snatched up a sword from an unconscious man a short distance away, tossing it to the other and receiving a wink of thanks.

As Arthur cut down one of the final men, Gwaine managed to get in a solid blow with the handle of his sword to the weaselly man's head, sending him down to the floor with a muted thud.

The three men breathed heavily as they glanced about at the mass of unconscious bodies. Arthur slowly sheathed his sword as Gwaine tossed back his head, hair falling behind his ears messily as he gave a laugh and tossed his damaged weapon aside.

"Well that was fun," Gwaine declared warmly, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

* * *

**Review if you're interested in the story? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

"Killed all my customers!" the woman who owned the tavern wailed at the top of her lungs. "Out, _out_ with you _barbarians_!" she shouted, tossing an empty bottle at Gwaine's head, which he neatly dodged.

Arthur opened and then closed his mouth, clearly in a fit of rage over not being able to spout about how he was the future king of Camelot, and Merlin and Gwaine scuttled hurriedly out the aged wooden door with matching stupid grins. Merlin pulled it closed behind him quietly, leaving Arthur to explaining.

The black-haired warlock started over toward the horses that were happily drinking from the trough on the post, feeling a spring of cheerfulness in his step that he'd been lacking the past couple days.

"Name's Gwaine," the man from the tavern introduced himself as Merlin strode over toward the horses. "Nice to meet you, Merlin. You and your friend - good fighting back there."

Merlin shook his head, grinning mischievously. "Don't let Arthur hear that, his head's big enough. Nice to meet you, as well," he said conversationally as he began tightening the horses' girths again. He looked up at the man with a smile that dimpled his cheeks and squinted through the sunlight as he got a better look at him for once.

He had stubble crawling along his cheeks and jawline, his hair was dark brown, messy, and somewhat longer than Arthur's. He had mischecious, light grey eyes and he was perhaps an inch taller than Merlin. Despite the description given to him, being a drunkard, he appeared no more than a little tipsy. Perhaps he just held his drink very well. He seemed cheerfully sober as he fiddled with the sword he had stolen earlier in its holster.

Gwaine stretched out a hand to Merlin's black mare, allowing her to snuffle his fingertips. "Where are you two traveling from?" he asked curiously "He's a knight, so-?"

"Camelot," Merlin answered unthinkingly, patting his mare's neck as she sniffed the stranger's hand.

"Knights of Camelot?" Gwaine asked, lips twitching into a smile. "His fighting style is very clearly that of a knight's. I hope you'll forgive my assumptions."

"Well, he's a knight. I'm from Ealdor," the sorceror said with a shrug. "I'm just his manservant."

"Really? Thought you two might be sweethearts, the way he was sitting you down for a drink," Gwaine said playfully, waggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. "I don't think I've ever seen a knight do that for his servant."

Merlin laughed openly at the idea, ignoring the pang in his chest as he did so. "There's definitely no - I mean we aren't," Merlin explained firmly. "Prince Arthur is far too... annoying, for my tastes."

"Prince?"

"_Merlin_!"

The young sorceror internally cursed, wincing at the sound of angry footsteps approaching from behind. He slowly turned to face the infuriated blond, offering a hesitant smile.

"I leave you alone for a single minute - this, this is why I don't tell you anything," Arthur snapped angrily. "I told you not to tell anyone who I was." The blond threw up his hands in a dramatic fashion, looking thoroughly frustrated.

"You said not to call you Prince Arthur while we were in the tavern, and we aren't anymore!" Merlin protested, not noticing the disparaging look on Gwaine's face as he eyed the prince. "It just sort of slipped out, anyway."

Gwaine glanced between the two with a barely concealed look of amusement.

Arthur pinned Merlin a look that spoke of vengeance and lots of pointless chores, before turning to face the man he had fought alongside, his immature mask melting into a look of perfect respect. "You fought well back there," he said suddenly, extending a hand. "Some of the men in there are wanted in Camelot. I've restrained them for now, but we are, as it seems, in your debt."

"Don't mention it," Gwaine said dismissively, accepting the proffered handshake half-heartedly.

"Is there anything we could do for you?" the prince insisted as he swung into the saddle of his white horse. "Food, drink, money?"

"Nope," the man answered cheerfully, clutching his side without seeming to notice he did so.

"You're hurt," Merlin deduced quickly. "Come back to Camelot with us."

Gwaine laughed, shaking his head and dropping his hold on his side, revealing where blood had begun to soak through his shirt. "It's nothing. Thank you for the offer, Merlin," he said with a playful smile.

"Nonsense, Gaius is one of the finest physicians in Albion. It's the least I could do," Arthur insisted as Merlin climbed into his own saddle.

Gwaine shifted his weight uncertainly, looking to Merlin's hopeful expression before nodding thoughtfully. "All right," he conceded finally. "I suppose I could use a warm bed for the night. Did have a room reserved in there," he said, nodding in the direction of the devastated tavern, "but I get the feeling I'm not welcome anymore."

"Good," Arthur said.

He gave Merlin a meaningful look, which the servant pointedly ignored.

"Merlin, give him your horse."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off by Gwaine: "No, no, it's all right," he said, walking up to a nearby tied horse and pulling its reins over its head. He tightened its cinch and sprung into the saddle, nodding proudly. "Got my own."

Arthur nodded once and started off down the path at a lope, the other two following at a short distance.

"That's your horse?" Merlin asked casually, trying to hide a grin. He looked up at the sky and watched a flock of birds race across the sky. A young one at the back was falling behind, and Merlin felt a small pang of sadness. He glanced quickly over to Gwaine, who was gazing back at the tavern.

Quickly, he looked up to the sky, transferring a burst of energy from his own magic into the small bird and smiling as it sped up, catching up to the group once again.

"No," Gwaine said cheerfully, startling him from his thoughts. "I think it's that wretched barmaid's."

* * *

"He'll be all right?" Merlin asked Gaius as he stepped out of Merlin's bedchambers, where Gwaine was resting.

"It was just a scratch. Sir Gwaine will be perfectly fine," the physician replied. "Tell me, Merlin, how did you find the man?"

"He was at the tavern," Merlin answered. "Got into a fight with a group of men who were apparently wanted. Arthur wanted to thank him for fighting with him, and he wouldn't take money, so we took him to Camelot. And I don't think he's a knight," he added thoughtfully.

"Oh?" Gaius asked in surprise.

Merlin nodded as he finished grinding up a powder with the mortar and pestle. He pushed aside the bowl of alchemy ingredients, crossing his arms against the table and lowering his head against it, letting his eyes flutter closed as exhaustion washed over him.

"Have you been having trouble sleeping, Merlin?" Gaius asked suddenly, startling the young man into opening his eyes.

"No."

"You don't seem yourself," the physician continued, grabbing the bowl of powder the sorcerer had readied and pouring it into a vial.

"I've been getting that a lot lately," Merlin muttered, flicking a bit of dirt off the edge of the table and blowing out a slow breath. _Maybe they just don't know me as well as they assumed_, he thought irritably. Though, he supposed that would be hard, when he had to lie about the very core of himself to them every waking moment.

"This is more than Balinor?" the older man guessed as he put the vial away in a cupboard, next to several others of the same variety. Merlin flinched at his words, shaking his head and drumming his fingers against the table before pushing himself upright again.

"I don't know," he admitted finally. "Maybe I am just tired," he offered.

"I could ready a sleeping draught for you tonight?" he suggested as he fell into a seat across from the young sorceror.

"Sure, thank you Gaius," the black-haired man said as he got to his feet, tugging at his scarf. "Will Gwaine be up soon?"

"I'd presume within the hour. I believe he's sleeping off the drink more than any real injury," the physician said, frowning curiously. "Why?"

"I'm going to go fetch him and Arthur dinner," Merlin replied, darting off toward the kitchens without further explanation.

* * *

_Need a walk. Maybe if I talk to Kilgharrah, I can clear up whatever's in my head._

Merlin scooped up a roll as he contemplated the thought, receiving a threatening glare from the cook as he did so.

He beamed. "Hello," he greeted the older woman genially. "Just picking up the prince's dinner."

She grunted in response, sparing him a distrustful look before turning away. He snatched up an apple from a nearby tray, holding it between his teeth as he rolled an extra one on to the plate for Arthur.

Before the hag could turn around, he quickly gathered up his things and raced out of the kitchen, running into a hanging pan on the way out. It clattered to the ground, alerting the chef who shouted after him angrily as he darted down the corridor, struggling against his smile around the apple in his mouth.

* * *

He lifted one hand to pluck the apple out of his mouth and tore off a bite as he neared the door to the prince's bedchambers. He levitated the fruit unthinkingly as he stretched out one hand to rap his knuckles against the wooden door. "Arthur?" he called, grabbing the apple from the air once more, glancing around to be sure that no one had seen him.

"Come in," the prince called from behind the door.

Merlin pushed open the large, grand door with his shoulder, smiling cheerfully at the blond as he stepped inside. He was sat behind his desk, eyes narrowed as he glanced over a roll of parchment, quill in hand.

"You seem better," he said in a surprised voice as he looked up from his desk. "And you remembered to bring me dinner. What's gotten into you?"

Merlin feigned an insulted look as he set down the tray before the knight. "Are you saying that I don't normally accomplish-"

"-Yes. You're the worst servant I've ever had, Merlin," Arthur cut him off. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "In fact, the only things you _do_ accomplish, I never actually see you do."

Merlin tensed, rolling his eyes. "You've caught me. I have a servant of my own who does all of your chores."

Arthur snorted, looking back down to his roll of parchment. "How's Gwaine?" he asked curiously.

"Gaius said he's doing well," he said casually, taking an obnoxious, crunching bite of his apple. "What are you writing?"

"A speech," Arthur replied, arm stiffening at Merlin's noisy chewing sounds. "The tournament starts next week, and I have to address the knights before they begin."

Merlin took a bite of his apple, nodding thoughtfully. A bit of apple juice dripped on to the desk. "Doesn't Uther usually do that?" he inquired curiously.

Arthur looked up at him without moving his head as Merlin chewed the bite of his apple, crunching into it noisily once again after a moment of silence.

"Yes, he does," Arthur said finally. "But this year it falls to me." He glanced back down to his paper, writing down another few words.

_Crunch_. More apple juice dribbled to the wooden desk.

"So are you going to eat dinner?"

Arthur pressed the tip of his quill into the parchment, flexing his jaw. "Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

"Go away," Arthur said, looking up with a dangerous expression. "And don't come back with that apple or I'll have you hanged."

"Does this mean you're giving me the day off?" Merlin chirped, beaming as if that were the nicest thing he'd heard all day.

"Just, go," Arthur said irritably, glancing back down to his paper as Merlin hopped to his feet, leaving his half-eaten apple and darting for the door with a bounce in his step.

* * *

"Hello?" Merlin asked, peering into his bedroom with a tray of food in hand.

Empty.

"Gaius!" Merlin shouted, setting down the tray and poking his head back into the main room. "Where's Gwaine?"

"Oh, said he went down to the tavern," Gaius said dismissively as he measured out a clear liqiud, frowning thoughtfully.

Merlin blinked. "Did he actually?"

Gaius looked up with a frown. "Why on earth would I make up that someone went to the tavern?"

Rolling his eyes, the young sorceror darted out of the physician's office without another word, racing through the conjoining castle corridor and out the door.

* * *

When Merlin finally reached the tavern and stepped inside, he was immediately assaulted with throaty laughter and song.

Merlin blinked twice. Gwaine had his arms thrown around two burly men as he finished the song, throwing back his head and giving a rumbling laugh before taking another large swig of his tankard.

"Gwaine?" Merlin called, a smile turning up the corner of his lips.

"Merlin!" Gwaine cheered. "Come! Sit! Have a drink!"


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

"Merlin, YOU are, my best friend."

Merlin laughed, a bit of mead dribbling from his lips as he did so, and trailing its way down on to his scarf. "You have a lot of those."

Gwaine laughed as if Merlin had told him the best joke all night, and threw his arm around the black-haired man's shoulder, drawing him against his chest on the bench they were sat upon.

Merlin felt heat crawl almost lazily through his veins, his breath hitching in his chest when Gwaine brushed his lips across his ear. "I forget what I was going to whisper to you," he whispered very drunkenly into his ear.

Merlin laughed, shaking his head as the man's breath tickled his ear uncomfortably.

Gwaine gulped down the final contents of one of his numerous tankards, and Merlin continued to lean against him heavily, drunken mind buzzing thoughtlessly as his eyelids drooped.

"OY!" the bartender shouted over, not startling the cheerfully-drunk duo in the slightest.

The man flexed his jaw, getting to his feet and shoving past a few happily-singing men and stopping right in front of Gwaine and Merlin.

"Which one of you is gonna pay for this?" the bartender demanded irritably.

Gwaine tossed back his head, giving a laugh that rumbled in his chest. Merlin hummed, leaning into him more heavily with a contented sigh as his eyelids slipped closed.

The bartender snatched up Merlin by the scruff of his coat, and Gwaine continued to smile stupidly. The smile faltered slightly when the man shoved the warlock up against one of the building's wooden support beams.

The black-haired sorceror blinked sleepily at the man holding him up against a beam, offering a smile and lifting a hand to wave in greeting.

"You better be ready to pay for all this," the bald man snarled angrily.

"But I don't have any money!" Merlin protested, unable to resist the urge to laugh slightly as the enraged man dropped him back to the ground. "Gwaine?"

Gwaine laughed, shaking his head and Merlin staggered over to him, falling straight on top of him in a fit of quiet laughter.

* * *

"I can't believe he threw us out!" Merlin cried, leaning heavily on to Gwaine, who was also leaning on to him as he moved forward.

They stumbled awkwardly through the upper town toward the castle, clinging to each other and occasionally walking in differing directions.

"I can't wait to see Arthur's face when he sees the bill," Gwaine said cheerfully, nuzzling into Merlin's hair.

Merlin laughed. "What is it with you, an' nobles?" he asked curiously, his words slurring slightly as he stumbled over a rock in their path, nearly taking them both to the ground.

Gwaine chuckled. "My dad wassa noble," he said slowly, eyebrows furrowing through his smile as his brain struggled to conjure some semblance of an answer.

Merlin gave several choking laughs in response to that, and Gwaine cast him a short look of concern.

"_Merlin_?"

The duo looked up in sharp surprise at the shocked voice. Merlin flashed a dopey grin as he disentangled himself from Gwaine. "Gwen!" he cried. "Fancy seeing you here," he said.

"Are you drunk?" the woman asked in shock, lips slightly agape as she stared at the two downright giggly men.

"No, he's Merlin," Gwaine cut in, laughing at his own joke.

Merlin laughed somewhat manically, nodding his head up and down. "Silly Guinevere!" he crowed as Gwaine took a few unsteady steps forward and clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over.

"Who's this?" she asked unsurely, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her eyebrows as she observed Gwaine.

"He's drunk," Merlin mumbled, snorting in laughter at the joke and leaning his head against the man's shoulder.

Guinevere huffed impatiently and Gwaine took that moment to begin stumbling toward the castle again, Merlin in tow.

"Good-bye, Guinevere!" Merlin sing-songed back to her.

The two continued their stumble toward the castle, which was going perfectly fine until Gwaine tripped over someone's water bucket, tumbling to the ground and into the dirt, water splashing up around him.

Merlin, who had been relying on the man for support, promptly tripped over his foot and collapsed, laughing as he fell helplessly atop the other man.

Gwaine's laughter shook his form, forcing Merlin to wriggle uncomfortably off of his chest and fall down beside him in the dirt, grinning up at the beautiful blue sky.

His delightful view of the clouds was suddenly obscured by the bemused face of Arthur Pendragon. Frowning and pinching his eyes, Merlin attempted to look around him.

"Arthur, could you move your big, fat head?"

"What the hell are you doing," Arthur demanded, tone devoid of inflection as he blinked down at him.

"Cloud-watching," Gwaine said loftily.

"Now it's tarse-watching," Merlin groaned.

Gwaine laughed breathlessly at that, rolling his head over in the dirt to offer the young sorceror a smile. He leaned close to his ear, grey eyes dancing with mischief. "That was a good one," he whispered, as if Arthur couldn't hear them.

"What are you doing on the ground? Where were you? Did you just call me a _tarse_?" Arthur snarled, the rage in his voice increasing with each inquiry.

Merlin giggled in a very manly fashion.

"Are you both _drunk_?" Arthur demanded, face curling in disgust as his blue eyes flickered with rage.

Merlin groaned, covering his face with both hands. "No!" he shouted.

Gwaine laughed, eyes pinching closed as he did so. He shook his head in agreement with Merlin's statement.

"_He's_ drunk, and _I'm_ Merlin."

* * *

"I didn't think we had _this_ much to drink," Merlin said sadly as he scrubbed another one of Leon's dirty boots.

"I bought everyone else a drink too," Gwaine explained as he tossed aside another one of the swords. "You're doing that wrong," he added casually, nodding to the way Merlin was scraping dirt out of the bottom of the boot with the polishing brush.

Merlin groaned. "I knew that," he muttered, pushing the now dirt-covered brush on to the top of the boot and beginning to rub bits of dust all over it.

The sorceror narrowed his eyes, using the brush more aggressively.

Gwaine smiled, allowing him to continue as he moved on to the next sword that needed sharpened.

"Hey, Gwaine," Merlin said suddenly, mischief flaring to life in his blue eyes, "why don't you run and get another bucket of water?"

Gwaine glanced over to him curiously, but nodded, hopping to his feet. "All right, be back in a moment," he said casually, snatching up the current, dirtied bucket of water and heading out of the room.

"_Tabernus celeriter purgo_," Merlin whispered as the man shut the door behind him.

The polishing brush jumped to life, cleaning the dirt off of the boots much too quickly for Merlin's eyes to follow. He glanced over to an extra polishing brush, eyes flashing golden.

The new brush also jumped to work. They raced down the line spastically over the next few minutes, dusting and polishing the boots so rapidly that they were hot to the touch.

Merlin smiled, leaning back and admiring his work as the brushes finished their cleaning of the final pair.

He'd never had his magic do rush work before, but he made a mental note to do it more often. He summoned the brushes back over to himself, gasping and dropping them when they burned his hands.

The door to the room swung open once again, revealing Gwaine with a fresh bucket of water.

"There was a line at the well," the grey-eyed man explained as he walked inside, setting the bucket down. His eyes slowly alighted upon the entire army's freshly polished boots.

He blinked.

He looked to Merlin - the man who hadn't known you couldn't use water and dish soap on leather a few moments ago - who had somehow managed to clean and polish an entire army's boots to perfection without any signs of exertion, in just ten minutes.

The polishing brushes sat at his feet.

"Merlin, how did you do it?"

Merlin beamed. "I _am_ the prince's servant. How would I keep my job if I wasn't good at it?"

* * *

"Well," Merlin said as he heaved a sigh, leaning heavily on the doorframe of Arthur's room later that evening, "I guess I better go keep working on those boots, swords and armor now," he said with a tone of exhaustion.

Arthur swallowed his bite of pork, looking somewhat guilty. "You know, Merlin, you've been working on that every night. I must say I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd actually do it," he admitted, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck.

"Well, sire, I suppose you could say I really regret what I did," Merlin said in a thoroughly shamed tone, dropping his head and looking to the ground to hide his grin.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well, Merlin, you know, it really was just one time. Maybe tomorrow you can go back to normal chore-"

"-No, no. I've accepted my punishment," Merlin insisted, looking up again. "And I can't rest until each and every member of the army has a freshly sharpened sword."

Arthur opened and then closed his mouth, feeling a pang of guilt. "All right, then," he mumbled, nodding. "Good night, Merlin."

"Good night, sire," Merlin said solemnly as he stepped out, shutting the door behind himself.

After a few moments of uneasy hesitation, Arthur got to his feet.

_Merlin doesn't deserve this_, he decided.

With that in mind, he pulled on his exceptionally well-polished boots and started out the door and into the castle.

* * *

Merlin laughed until his sides ached as he leaned over the table at the center of the tavern, gripping the handle of his tankard as he gasped for breath.

"Merlin, do you gamble?" Gwaine asked suddenly, nodding over to a table where several men were throwing dice.

The sorceror shook his head and Gwaine beamed, hopping to his feet. "Come on then," he said eagerly. "It's loads of fun."

"Hello boys," Gwaine crowed as he approached the table of nobles. They were all in town for the upcoming tournament.

"Come to give up your money?" one knight asked playfully as Gwaine approached, Merlin stepping forward behind him.

"No, I've come to take some of yours," he replied, beaming. "Dice?" he asked as he tossed a coin out on to the bet pile.

"All right. Be warned though - Merek has lucky fingers," the man said, beaming as he handed over the dice. Merek, a timid, smaller man, looked up at the sound of his name. Despite his anxious air, a strange, unhappy smile spread across his features at that statement.

"I'm not worried," Gwaine replied casually, looking over to Merlin with a playful wink.

Merlin blinked back at him. He hoped that hadn't been some sort of subtle clue or direction. He was terrible at subtle direction.

Merek drew the dice in his fist up toward his lips, whispering into his closed hand. "Eleven," he called, drawing surprised murmurs from the watching crowd as he tossed his dice on to the table.

Merlin started as he felt a surge of magic fly through the air, clinging to the man's dice. He looked up quickly, catching a flicker of gold fading from the pale brunette's hazel eyes as gasps of disbelief rang out around him.

He was a sorceror.

"They weren't kidding. Kid's got the gods on his side," one man grunted from a few feet back in the crowd.

Merlin narrowed his eyes.

Gwaine smiled at Merek cheerfully. "Nothing worth calling other than twelve, then," he said, discreetly nudging Merlin as he gathered up the dice.

Merlin furrowed his eyebrows, ignoring Gwaine and instead watching the other sorceror closely.

Merek's gaze was locked on the dice. Calculating, intense, he didn't even blink as he watched them tilt back and forth in the palm of Gwaine's hand.

Merlin felt a surge of rage as he realized what was about to happen.

Gwaine rolled the dice out to the table almost lazily, and Merlin abruptly faked a noisy cough, tucking his head into the crook of his elbow and pinching his eyes closed. He shoved his own magic forth, barreling Merek's out of the way effortlessly and manipulating Gwaine's dice on to the correct number.

When he pulled away from his fake cough, Merek's eyes were round with horror and disbelief as he stared at the dice on the table, which clearly showed two sixes.

Shouts of disbelief rang up on either side as Gwaine happily scooped up the winnings into his pouch. "Another round, Merek?" he asked curiously, beaming. "My luck will run out, I'm sure."

Merek opened and then closed his mouth, his face pale as a sheet as he shook his head, taking a step back. He glanced from Merlin to Gwaine, seeming to tense considerably as he settled his gaze on the latter.

Merlin looked at him unsurely. He hadn't meant to frighten the younger warlock - in fact, he wasn't even sure what he had done to receive that sort of response.

"No? Ah, well, gentlemen, any of you?" Gwaine asked curiously, glancing around.

The knight who had vouched for Merek looked livid as he shook his head. "I don't think any of us want to take that risk," he said in a sharp, knowing tone.

Gwaine looked uncomprehending as he tilted his head slightly, shrugging and pulling away from the table. "All right then. Have a nice evening," he said dismissively to the nobles.

Merlin felt dread curl up inside him unbidden as he watched the way the knight stared murderously at Gwaine's back as he began to walk away.

* * *

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